Flying High
by Aeon320
Summary: Young Taven and his Fimiliar have many hard tasks ahead of him. Is he up to the challenge?Chapter 2 up! Feild Work
1. Introduction

**_Flying High_**

By: Nick Peluso

* * *

Table Of Contents:

1. Autumnal Festival  
2. Field Work  
3.  
4.  
5.  
6.  
7.  
8.  
9.  
10.

This book is dedicated to my loving and caring Nana. Get well soon Nana!


	2. Autumnal Festival

1. Autumnal Festival

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Taven was walking hurriedly down the beaten dirt road towards the town square. The Autumn Festival was going on, the biggest party of year. They celebrated the harvesting, and rejoiced at the food brought from it. More important to him, though, was the Selection, a time when all young people around the age of 13 got selected for their apprenticeship. Taven was fourteen, a slender young man who was very tall. He was somewhat muscular, but not nearly as much as some of his peers.

Taven was hoping to be picked for warrior school, or maybe becoming a ranger's apprentice. He definitely wanted something to do with battle, although he would not mind being a cook, either. He simply would be fraught if he was picked by Monk Dursley or, worse still Diplomat Elizabeth. Comforting, though, was that diplomats were nearly always women. As far as he could tell, that was all the jobs open.

He came upon the square, and saw that the apprentices were already lined up, and no music was playing. It was silence as he hurriedly walked, head down, into position. The party goers chuckled a bit at Taven's late appearance.

"Now, I would like to thank you all for coming!" King Duncan said. The King bowed slightly, and everyone around him bowed deeply in return. "Today is a very special day, as you all know. Not for our town's harvest, but for the Selection! Our town's youth now are going to be picked as to which trade each Master deems best. Now, Master Rein, the great knight, shall start the ceremony!"

And so it began, Master Rein beginning by picking numerous students, Taven not one of them. Next came Heppa, the blacksmith. He chose only two. It went on like this for a great while, until only a few were left, Taven one of them. Treymore, the Ranger, had already picked his sole apprentice. The cook had picked 7, about a third of Rein. Now only Elizabeth the Diplomat, the portly Dursley, and one he had not seen before remained.

First up was Elizabeth. Taven's heart pounded furiously in his chest, seeing as the two jobs he loathed were still on the table and one he had no idea what it was. A lone bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as the woman passed him, an eyebrow raised at the slight notion. "You." She said simply, to a young girl younger than him. She said it once more, to someone Taven knew quite well.

Rose was 14 also, and his sole friend. She was a pretty girl, average height, and very delicate. She had bright, blue eyes accompanying her long blond hair. She bowed as she was picked, gave Taven a look he could not decipher, and walked over with her peer. Taven was now one of the four left, and his heart raced on still.  
Monk Dursley was next, and he stood in front of Taven and studied him closely. "Do you believe in God?" Dursley asked quite simply. Taven could not believe it, that this was the life ahead of him. Unconsciously, he shook his head, in disbelief about what was to follow. He was about to pipe up and say yes, even though he did not go to church, but Dursley was already moving on. Then Taven realized by shaking his head, Dursley interpreted it as an answer. Taven let out a sigh of relief as the other three were chosen.

Now Taven stood alone, the sole youth when the man he had not known walked up to him. He had a staff, in which he used to walk. He walked over, his clean shaven face with long, grayish hair. Almost peppery. "Do you believe in forging your own destiny? Hard work and determination? This is not an oath you're about to take, boy, it is a lifestyle." He asked, studying him closely under hazel eyes.

This time, although Taven knew not who this man was, he knew his answer. "Yes." He said firmly, standing up straight and proud. The man nodded. "You may become my apprentice." The cyan cloaked man said with out giving his name, leading Taven back to the correct spot.

"Now let us all give a round of applause for our new apprentices!" King Duncan commanded, and everyone stood up and clapped, including the masters and even the king. It lasted a long time, the young adults holding their heads up high in pride. If only Taven knew what awaited him.


	3. Feild Work

2. Field Work 3

Taven awoke late the next morning, and thought about the previous night. He rubbed his groggy eyes, yawning silently and stretching his arms up towards the ceiling. Getting up, Taven got dressed, pulling first his leather shorts up, and then putting on his vest. His family was not poor, but very close to it. Walking downstairs, Taven was surprised as his master was sitting there. "Hello?" he said tentatively, walking over to the kitchen table and sitting across from him.

"Young Taven, it will not be easy training under my wing. I accept no insolence, no fooling around. You will not question anything I tell you, nor will you disobey any order from me. Listen, and abide by these rules, and you will do well by me. I am to be addressed as Master Seymour." Said Taven's master.

"Yes, Master Seymour." Taven said curtly, as he looked at a parcel in Seymour's outstretched hand. It was wrapped in brown paper, with yarn strung around both sides, coming together in a bow.

"Your uniform. These are not to be needed today, but should be put on when you get up any other time, I will expect it." Seymour said as Taven took the package, and ran back down the hall. He set the parcel on the bed, and ran back. "Err, would you like some tea?" Taven asked, waiting for his master's answer.

"No, we have work to do. By 'we', of course, I mean you." Seymour said, standing up. Taven blinked, and sighed. He got up in turn and followed his Master out.

"What type of work, Seymour?" Taven asked casualty. In a quick action, Seymour brought his staff up, flinging Taven several feet into the air. He came down hard, the wind knocked out of him. "Wha-?"

"Master Seymour. And to answer your question, work to increase your respect, and your tolerance. Come, now." Seymour replied with out giving Taven a chance to finish. The older man walked past, not saying another word, or looking back.

Picking himself up, Taven brushed himself off while following his seemingly harsh Master. "Master Seymour, may I ask one more question?" Taven asked, waiting until Seymour nodded before continuing. "How did you do that? That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I did not feel the blow, yet I flew up and came down hard!"

Seymour chuckled, and said, "Apparently I have a lot to teach you apprentice! Have you ever heard of the work _magic_?" He looked over to the bright eyed youth just in time to see Taven's jaw drop, and his eyes widen. "You mean _magic_? In the fairy tales?! Stories of ancient lore, depicting brave and wise wizards vanquishing demons by shooting out lightning and fire from their magical staves?" Seymour nodded.

"Yes, of course. That is only child's play, though, right?" Taven said, standing up straighter and puffing out his chest. Seymour shook his head no. "You will soon find that wizards are not child's stories at all, as you are to become one."

Barely containing his laughter, it was easy for Master Seymour to see Taven's chagrin. "Laugh now, young one; laugh whilst you still can. We are here now." He said, stopping in front of a chicken coup fenced in on all sides, part of a much larger pen.

"What am I supposed to do here, Master Seymour?" Taven asked, looking at the chicken coup, then at the field suspiciously. With a flick of his hand, the gate to the chicken coup opened, and the chickens went flying out. Soon they were all over the place.

"The lesson, determination and endurance, will power. Round up these chickens." Seymour said, moving his staff up, and flinging Taven over the rather large fence, only for him to land heavily, dropping to one knee. "There are 12 chickens in all. Seven hens, five roosters."

Taven got up shakily, and shot his master a dirty look before turning back and stretching a bit. Seymour shrugged, and walked away. "I'm getting a bite to eat, do your work." He called back to Taven.

Taven knew this was going to be hard work, but he couldn't imagine what was in store for him. Every time he got a hand on one of the chickens, it turned around abruptly and bit his hand. Fresh blood oozed out from every attempt. The stinging sensation from it, the hurt, the pain; it would not just go away. The roosters were worse, even after they got away, they would continue to attack him.

This time, Taven changed up his strategy. He crouched down, stalking the nearest hen. Quickly, he stuck out with his hand, closing his fist tightly around the poor creature's neck. It struggled as Taven then grasped both its feet in his free hand. He walked back over to the pen triumphantly, and flung it in the coup as he shut the gate. As he looked down, he sighed at his bloody, cut hands. "One down, 11 to go…" Taven murmured, turning back to the small field.

Keeping the roosters for last, he again approached another hen. Again, he succeeded, dropping it in the pen. This continued on for quite a while, Taven having a moderate success rate. Of course, his hands were bit, clawed, and bloodied much, much more.

Reflecting on his master's words about him becoming a wizard as he tossed his 5th hen into the coup, he was not so sure his master was serious. Moreover, that his master could be serious about it. The children's fairy tales were devised to entertain children, nothing more.

He sighed, tossing a bead of sweat from his forehead. His legs, arms, and hands were getting worse and worse as he made little progress, he imagined what he would look like when he finished, and Taven wondered if he would be able to walk. He turned around, and got back to work. He would not give up; he would not show his master any weakness.

Seymour was on his way back from a hearty lunch, and was chuckling to himself, wondering how Taven was doing. When he finally came to see, he was amazed. The best student he had yet had only been able to put 8 chickens in the pen. These chickens were meant to give hell, and pain. And here Taven was, standing up, and leaning heavily on the fence. Every single hen was in the roost, as well as every rooster as well.

Taven sat there, gritting his teeth. He looked up, and saw Master Seymour in front of him. He straightened his stiff muscles, and stood straight. "Be at ease child… You show great promise." Seymour said, and he put his hands on the willow staff, and thought of what to do next. Normally, he would give his apprentices have an hour or so more.

"Let's get you a bite to eat, and get some ointment on your wounds." Master Seymour said. He himself had already eaten, but his apprentice had not. Seymour walked slightly ahead and to the side of his apprentice, leading him to a local pub. Stepping in first, Taven dutifully followed.

"Order what you want" Seymour said, smiling nicely as the waitress walked over. "Umm… Can I have you chicken please? Wait, I take that back tenfold. I'll go with fish instead!" Taven said, as both he and Master Seymour chuckled. The waitress, not getting the joke, just rolled her eyes and walked away.

Taven had eaten enthusiastically, shoveling down his food. The person he was with, Seymour, remained quite. At the end, when the waitress came for the bill, Seymour remained still. "Master, aren't you going to pay?" Taven asked, wondering what he was doing. "No." Was all he got in reply.

Seymour just said, "Lesson two." And walked out, leaving Taven to pay. The problem was Taven had no money. So Taven found himself washing dishes for two hours, yes indeed. His pruned hands hurt like hell as he walked out, into the back alley. Master Seymour was waiting for him, and waved in reply to the bartenders grunt, "John."

"WHY IN THE HELL! WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO! SUCH A NERVE YOU HAVE" Taven stammered, it already well past sundown. He looked with malice upon his Master, resenting even being in the same area as him.

"Now its time for you to go home, it's early to rise tomorrow. I expect your robes on as well." John Seymour said, leading Taven home. When they arrived, Taven opened the door. Master Seymour reached in his pocket, and gave Taven cream he had picked up from the local medicine shop.

"Thanks… Listen, I'm sorry about before. I guess I kind of got worked up." Taven said in response to the ointment. His Master nodded, and Taven went inside. It was to be a long night, as Taven ached horribly.


End file.
